A Not So Arbitrary Affair
by Ink Cat
Summary: Arbitrary: adj Existing or coming about seemingly at random or by chance or as a capricious and unreasonable act of will. Ladybug fanfiction, about the growth of a relationship, its death, and... rebirth?
1. Chapter 1

A/N. I've been working on this for what feels like _forever._ It's really long, mostly flashbacks and flashforwards. I seem to be having a hard time putting together an actual CSI fic without using memories. It's just easier that way for me, I think, because I can give comentary while I tell a story, and I can jump between events. I decided to write GC because I'd never done it before, and because I saw on CSI-Forensics that there are more GC stories than GSR and CW combined, which is odd because those are the two canon ships, and usually canon ships are the most popular. It got me thinking about, "Hey, would they make a good couple?" Disclaimer: CSI no es el mío. Dur.

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If we listened to our intellect, we'd never have a love affair.  
-Ray Bradbury

It had been bittersweet, their affair. It was a thing of quiet nights and unbearably long days, of needy, lingering kisses over clasped hands and hushed whispers under the cover of darkness, when the world was asleep but lovers were still free to murmur their devotion to one another. It was a thing of tender promises followed, inevitably, by hurt that those promises had been left unfulfilled. They hadn't been able to speak to each other for months afterwards. It had been too painful. The others suspected, or rather, they knew, but were too polite or too awkward to ask about it.

He didn't know how they had gotten by unscathed. Each day that passed, he expected to be approached by one of his supervisors, demanding to know what had happened. As if they could change anything now, he thought, as if there was any point in punishing them for something that had ended some time ago. What was done was done… and God, was their relationship ever done. How they had crashed and burned like this was beyond him. Their passions had been so equally matched, but more than lust, they had cared for each other, so deeply that it had almost hurt.

She was the only woman that he'd ever loved, and the first he'd ever opened his heart to. She had seen too many men come and go. For once, strong, intelligent Catherine needed someone to protect her, needed the comfort of someone to hold her, someone to run to when the world was too cruel and unjust.

And Gil Grissom was that someone. They had thrown themselves into love with such careless abandon for the world.

"_I confess… I've forgotten… how to love."_

_She pressed a gentle kiss to his palm. "I'll help you to remember. If you'll let me."_

_His eyes never left hers "I want to learn. Help me to understand… what this is. What is this?"_

_A soft smile bloomed on her lips, clouding her eyes. "If I tell you, will you run?" She looked up, and suddenly her eyes were filled with the vulnerability that can only come from being left behind, from losing what she thought was hers forever, and from being afraid to hope. "Or will you stay?"_

"_For you, Catherine, I'd sell my soul." He caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. Her eyes fluttered closed. "I'd stay until the end of time," he said softly._

_She lost herself in his eyes, reading the promises there, promises that she had seen so many times before. Yet in those blue-grey eyes, she could believe that they were true, that they wouldn't, _couldn't_, be broken. And maybe, just maybe, this time, they couldn't._

_She slipped into his embrace and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer to his ear. His arms encircled her waist as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Quietly, she whispered, her breath brushing against his skin like a breeze. "It's love." Her eyes squeezed closed. She tightened her arms around his neck. "Oh, Gil, it's love."_

_He was breathless, speechless. So that's what this was, then? This fluttering that he felt in his stomach when she walked by, the spontaneous urge to cradle her in his arms and keep her safe from the world… it was love._

_He buried his face in the beautiful, golden silk of her hair. He felt her tense in his arms, and realized that she thought that he was hiding from her. His heart nearly broke for this woman, so afraid of being forsaken again. He lifted his head, met her ice-blue eyes, so like his own, and spoke softly, trying not to let his sorrow for her reach into his tone. "Till the end of time, remember?"_

_She let out something that was a mix between a laugh and a sob, and rested her head on his shoulder. He stroked her hair, lifted her, and carried her to his bedroom. _

_Grissom drew back the covers and lay her beneath them. She relaxed into the sheets, soft and cool, and breathed in the unique scent of him that lingered in his bedding. He dimmed the lights, but didn't put them out completely. Climbing into bed, he settled himself beside her, and when she edged her way into his arms, he didn't protest, but nuzzled her neck contentedly. Catherine slept beside him that night, and for the first time in what felt like years, he dreamt of the seashores and sunshine of his childhood, of white beaches where the gulls called above him and the cerulean waves whispered to him that anything was possible, that dreams came true. And for once, Gil believed._


	2. Chapter 2

A/N. Throw a girl a bone, people. Reviews make for a happy author... and I'll love you forever if you review. Well, maybe not, but I'll probably dedicate a chapter to you... and you'd like that, right :D  
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

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And belief, he mused, was what had brought them here. Blind belief, with no basis in reality. Belief in what they thought they could make, two flawed individuals. They were too scarred, he believed, to ever function normally again. But the scars seemed less evident… when he was with her.

"_Gil?"_

"_Hm?"_

"_Why… why did it take so long? For us to get together, I mean." She wore a questioning look, as if she really didn't know the answer to her question._

"_I think that we just assumed that what was there in front of us couldn't be right. Doesn't it seem like it should've been harder? Like we don't deserve this?"_

_She nodded. "Every day." Taking his hand, she smiled. "The world's an odd place, isn't it?"_

"_I think that just about sums up our combined life experiences."_

_She laid a feather-light kiss on his lips, sweet and chaste. "Glad you're here. This odd world wouldn't be quite the same without the undeniably eccentric Dr. Grissom."_

_With a soft smile, he twined his fingers with hers. Although he didn't speak a word, letting the conversation settle into a comfortable lull, he knew that she understood the sentiment that he silently communicated._

_I'm glad you're here, too._

They had done well together. For the first few months, they had kept the affair secret, meeting in the mornings after their shifts had ended. Gil would forever associate Catherine with the rising sun and clean white cotton bed-sheets, the smell of lemons and the light chill that hung in the air, reminiscent of the desert night's coldness.

_He watched her navigate his kitchen with the ease of one who'd known the space for years. He could smell eggs cooking in a pan, and hear the sizzle and pop of frying bacon. Gil did his part, of course. At the counter he sliced blush-red strawberries, crisp apples and the sweet pineapple that one of his neighbors had brought him back from a trip to _ _Jamaica_

_She moved so effortlessly, like an ex-dancer who'd never really forgotten the steps. Even dressed, as she was, just in a white tank top and underwear, she was completely comfortable with herself. She turned and caught him watching her. Sauntering up to the counter, she kissed him lightly. He offered her a chunk of the golden pineapple. She smiled and ate it, licking her lips. When he kissed her again he could taste the sweetness on her tongue. _

_She ruffled an affectionate hand through his graying curls before turning back to save the bacon, just in the nick of time. Sliding the food onto plates, she added fruit and glasses of orange juice before joining him at the counter. They ate breakfast in a companionable silence, interrupting the meal every so often with a quick kiss or a brush of fingers across warm skin._


	3. Chapter 3

A/N. Okies, here's the next chapter. I had it done already, and I have the next one done, too. Maybe if you review I'll be persuaded to post quickly... -hintwinknudge- Lol, I love being able to hold fic above readers' heads and say, "Jump, my minions, jump!"

My appologies, my glucose level is sky-high. This is what happens when you give a cat a cookie. Or six. XD Stephanie, thanks so much for your review... just wanted to let you know that yes, what you requested will be happening, but it was already planned. :D I just couldn't bear to leave them like that!

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But, as was inevitable, time had started to wear them down. Tongues slipped, saying things to each other or about each other that just friends and co-workers wouldn't. They were dancing on a tight-rope, and each knew subconsciously that one day they would fall and what they had would shatter. They were a ticking time-bomb… and if Grissom had learned anything, it was that time had a way of speeding up when dreadful events were looming.

Their easy quiet now turned every so often to discomfort. They were on edge. The hair on the back of his neck prickled in anticipation of what he knew was sure to come. Denial worked for them, but only to a certain extent. They would kiss and hold each other close and make love and pretend that everything was fine, but it wasn't, and they knew it wasn't.

One day Grissom left Catherine in bed to sleep while he slipped away to start work early. When two hours after the start of shift she still hadn't arrived, he knew that something was wrong. He drove home, his mind reeling with unspoken worries. When he got to his condo, he found her sitting on the couch, her head in her hands.

_He sat silently beside her for a moment before asking softly, "Cath? What's wrong?"_

_Her hands shook as she brushed the hair from her face, and he could tell that she'd been crying. He reached out and put a hand on her knee. "Catherine?"_

_Her voice trembled. "I had… I had the most terrible dream. You were in the, the ocean, and drowning. And you were c-calling my name and reaching out t-to me, but I couldn't... I just couldn't save you, and you were gone." She began to sob quietly. He reached out to hold her, and she pulled away._

"_I needed you, Gil, and you weren't there. I woke up alone." Her voice cracked on the last word, as if it were a phrase she'd spent far too long associating herself with._

"_Cath, I-"_

_She cut him off. "You said you'd always be there. Where were you when I needed you?"_

_He was silent. His mouth opened and closed a few times as he tried to find the words to soothe her, to tell her that everything would be okay, that he hadn't meant to leave her alone, had never meant to… but he had. _

_She stood silently, and left the room, pausing on the threshold. "I won't, _can't _be alone anymore." There was a beat of silence, and a terribly fierce ache in her eyes as she gave up what she had just found such a short while ago, something that she thought she would never have. "Goodbye, Gil." She walked through the door in a rush of cold night air and starlight._

_And as always with matters with the heart, he found the right words too late._


	4. Chapter 4

Sue: "Holding a fic hostage for reviews is off-putting and generally thought of as bad form enough to actually quit reading."

Duly noted. Consider me properly chastised. Last night for desert I had the biggest slice of humble-pie I could find, and realized that I've been acting like a pig, whining about lack of reviews. To the readers, I apologize for my bad behavior, and for acting childishly. Begging for reviews is never good etiquette, and is particularly unflattering when done repeatedly. Mea culpa, it won't happen again.

And as for my non-existent recognition of all of the ways that Grissom and Catherine would make an excellent couple? I noticed, but sort of shoved it to the back of my consciousness or wrote it off as friendship, being the hard-headed GSR shipper that I was… although now that I've seen the light, it's painfully obvious that they're good for each other. I had something like that in my first draft of my author's notes, but took it out because I decided to slim it down.

Thank you so much for the encouragement, and for the reality check. Sometimes my swollen balloon of a head needs to be popped so I can be brought back down to earth. This chapter is dedicated to you, and to the other readers, for putting up with me, even when I was being a butt.

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Each time they passed each other in the hallway after that, they avoided eye-contact. They barely spoke a word to each other, and Grissom personally made certain that they could have as little interaction as possible: he assigned her to work with Warrick, with Nick, Sara, anyone but him. He couldn't… couldn't bear to see the pain in her eyes.

Her pain had become his own, he supposed. Like a virus, it had spread from its host, infecting and eventually taking over a new body while still leaving the last one just as desiccated as before. There was this constantly throbbing ache in his chest that hadn't been there before. What was almost worse was the sharp stab that he felt every so often, so intense that it made him gasp for air. These always seemed to come when he caught a whiff of her perfume in the air of the Trace lab, or saw the swish of her blonde hair out of the corner of his eye as she rounded a turn, or some other fleeting glimpse of her. He had always known that loss hurt emotionally… but he had never known that it could do so physically, also.

_He was in the break room, reading through reports, approving some while disapproving others. She was sitting on the other side of the table, munching an apple and flipping through some magazine. For the first few moments they were hyper-aware of one another and had to struggle to appear unfazed, but after awhile his attention started to wander as he was caught up in what he was doing. Absently he reached out for the pen that he knew was in the middle of the table…_

_And his fingers brushed hers. She pulled back as if she had been burned, cradling her hand against her chest protectively. They stared at one another for a moment, not knowing what to say. After a moment, Grissom started to speak._

"_Catherine -"_

"_Don't." She wore a warning look, one that said, 'Gil Grissom, you leave me alone.' "Just… don't." She stood and left the room. And he just watched her walk away. Again._

Days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months, and they still couldn't sit in the same room without falling into an incredibly awkward silence and couldn't look at each other without glancing away uncomfortably after a moment. After awhile the edge started to fade however, and each fell into a kind of numbness. They weren't comfortable around each other, and interacted as little as possible, but they co-existed efficiently enough to keep up appearances and get the job done. People stopped dancing around them as if they were going to explode at any moment, and they fell into the rhythm of daily life once more.

_He saw her, walking down the hallway. She shivered lightly, wrapped her arms around her body, whether to shield herself from the cold or from something else entirely, he wasn't quite sure. So this was what it was like, then, to be on the outside looking in. To want, and desperately desire, but to be unable to do anything at all. It was lonely, on the outside. _

_He watched her smile at Nick, throw a casually flirtatious glance at Greg, and sashay past Sara with a smirk. He observed her facade, the game that she played, the confident mask that she wore which hid her deep pains and insecurities. She slipped effortlessly into her part, an actress who had forgotten that she was acting, until she was alone. __He saw her shoulders droop, then, saw her head dip downwards and her features loosen in... what? Loneliness? Despair? Hopelessness? He could no more easily dececipher the meanings in those deep blue eyes than before; she remained just as much a mystery to him. It had seemed for a time that she would have shed her secrets and fought her demons, shared the true Catherine Willows with him. Now, it seemed, she never would._


End file.
